


Black on White

by Murr_miay



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate universe - Mafia, Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley loves Chubby, Daddy Kink, Dark Crowley (Good Omens), Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Fat Shaming, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Original Character(s), Psychological Trauma, Rejection, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Stubborn Aziraphale, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murr_miay/pseuds/Murr_miay
Summary: Aziraphale Fell try to protect his best friend from rich young bastards and crosses the path of the new king of school, not realizing what the consequences will it be.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale was angry, although it was not typical of him at all. He fumed, clenching fists under the table, while his best friend was throwing longing glances at a certain arrogant freak. A very handsome freak, though. Slim, tall, with aristocratic features and this slightly bored look meant to show he was better than the rest of the world. Spoilt son of his spoilt rich father. Always dressed smartly in brand-new clothes, surrounded by crowd of loyal friends and fans. Aziraphale could not but wonder if he himself would have been as spoilt had his father been not a modest priest in the local church, but a deputy mayor? Aziraphale snorted loudly, attracting a couple of curious glances. He did not believe for a second that the income could define a person’s behaviour and values. Speaking of Crowley’s values… They were completely inadequate. He was stuck in material pleasures. The demon of Tadfield – that was Crowley’s nickname – was notorious for his numerous love affairs. So numerous that rumours about them reached even Aziraphale’s modest ears.

At first Aziraphale had taken Crowley for a regular rich boy. Just one of the many in their class. He easily got along with the rest of them. So arrogant and bored, Crowley soon managed to beat Gabriel with his own hands to such a state that Gabriel had to publically beg for forgiveness in the backyard of the school. It was not unexpected, that after that incident Gabriel had lost his title of the school’s king and passed it over to Anthony Crowley. It was more surprising that Crowley paid no attention to all the beautiful girls throwing themselves at his feet. He merely regarded them as if they were some nice sculptures on the campus. He smiled wickedly, felt them up from time to time, but for more intimate pastime he preferred someone more down-to-earth, even ordinary-looking. A plump girl or a skinny boy from a parallel class. He took them by their hand and led to his demon’s den. At least that was how Aziraphale described Crowley’s manor, where he had moved in with his father half a year ago. The manor, a perfect example of gothic architecture, spread unexplainable dread, as well as its inhabitants. 

Aziraphale did not remember why Crowley had been granted the nickname - the Demon of Tadfield. However, he often addressed him like this in his head, because this image suited Crowley well. The fact that Anthony Crowley had a peculiar taste for partners gave hope to ordinary, not popular students. This way Crowley had the whole school at his heels. According to rumors, he sent his lovers away after the first night, however none of them seemed unsatisfied or willing to share any details. 

Aziraphale was fond of his friends. And Mathew, who secretly, as he thought, admired Crowley, was especially dear to Aziraphale. He did not like to interfere in other’s personal life, but this time he had to shield his friend from inevitable troubles. He collected his thoughts and whispered, “I beg you, Matt, you know what he’s like…”

“Like what?” asked Mathew flatly.

Aziraphale lingered, choosing what to say next carefully.

“Arrogant, full of himself. Oh, I beg you, Matt. He is going to break your heart! He has been in this school for less than a year, and he has already ruined so many hopes!” Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts. “Okay, maybe not so many, but I am still worried about you. I don’t want him to hurt you!”

“I can’t be more hurt that I already am,” answered Matthew Conrack sadly, watching as Anthony Crowley pulled one of the most popular girls in the school closer. He hugged her waist and leaned to her face, undoubtedly whispering sweet nothings into her ear. 

“I am afraid you’re wrong, Matt,” Aziraphale crossed his hands in front of him. “You’ve been in love with him for how long? A month? How has it even come to that?” The last question was addressed to no one in particular.

“I know,” whispered Matt. “I did not expect we could be together, but about a month ago I bumped into him near the stadium and he looked at me in such a way that I…” Conrack paused as if remembering something pleasant and beamed. “He has such beautiful eyes, Aziraphale, doesn’t he?”

“What? No way!” Aziraphale snapped, once again attracting attention. “I definitely do not find his eyes beautiful. Anthony Crowley is a slick guy, a real snake, for the love of God! How can you come not to see that?”

“Love is cruel,” answered Conrack with a smile, eyes still trained at the demon of Tadfield. Suddenly Matt became very serious. “He invited me to his part this Friday.”

“What? And you agreed? ”

“Of course, I did!” blushed Matthew. “It is not every day that I get invited by the most popular guy in our school. And you, Aziraphale? Care to join me on Friday?”

“Me?” Aziraphale frowned. “No, thanks. I’m not into parties, you know. Plus, I wasn’t invited. But if you need help…”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just asking, is all”

One of the smartest students of the school could hardly be misled by such a lame lie, however, Aziraphale decided not to say it out loud.

“Matt, all I ask is, do not make anything stupid, okay? Okay?” he tried not to look as a worried mom, but he was not very successful at it, because he was really concerned about his friend’s wellbeing. 

“Okay,” answered Conrack readily, not looking Aziraphale in the eye.

Aziraphale clenched his fists even tighter, but did not argue.

***

Aziraphale hated invading other people’s personal space. However, sometimes the universe made him act against his best intentions. He had neither right nor wish to eavesdrop the conversation of the local elite, but when he heard that a loud company had tumbled into the locker-room, he decided that it would be best to wait in the storeroom where he had gone because of the PE teacher’s demand to fetch the inventory. The room was small and dark, so Aziraphale unwillingly heard every word. When he smelled cigarette’s smoke he was so outraged that he even wanted to go out and tell the bullies off against his better judgement. However, the very first phrase made him freeze to the ground. 

“Have you already chosen a new toy for the party, Crowley?” Aziraphale recognized the speaker. It was Ligur, one of the Crowley’s henchmen. Fell came closer to the door, trying to have a better look at the bullies through a tiny gap. 

“May-y-ybe,” answered Crowley lazily. “If the boy doesn’t chicken out and comes to the party, I’ll play with him nicely and thoroughly,” the demon of Tadfield leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and making a deep drag on his cigarette.

“One more trophy in the collection of ruined virgins?” Dagon barked out a loud laugh. Crowley merely smiled in response, slowly letting the smoke out. 

Hastur said something under his nose with displeasure. “I don’t understand you, Crowley. You can have any popular girl, any! Instead of this, you waste your time on worthless nerds. I just want to understand, why?”

“Oh, Hastur, you should be more grateful to Crowley. Because of him, all your plump fun-girls have finally lost interest in you. Unless you wanted…”

“Never!” protested Hastur loudly, and Dagon wisely decided to drop the matter. 

Ligur chuckled “Crowley is like a predator. Takes virginity of the weakest and the ugliest ones.”

“We’re too different for you to understand me, Hastur,” informed him Crowley, graciously sinking into a nearby chair and crossing his legs. “But if you are really interested, I may give it a try and explain something to you.” 

“Fire away.”

“It is that I’m simply fed up with all these popular girls who are full of pretense only because mother-nature granted them nice looks,” Anthony paused, blowing rings of smoke. “No imagination, no gratitude. I was interested in these stupid sheep a couple of years ago, when I still haven’t figured out what I truly want from sex,” Crowley grinned. “Those who are not spoilt by popularity are like clay. You are free to make whatever you want out of them! They will let you do anything with them, unlike those long-legged models,” continued Crowley dreamily. “Of course, I take the slim ones for a change. But most of all I like, hm, little doughnuts. You know what I mean, Hastur?” Crowley stood up and approached his friend. Dagon and Ligur shared a knowing glance and grinned like two hyenas. Hastur only grimaced in distaste. 

Aziraphale wanted to know nothing about the bastards’s preferences. He would like nothing more but to cover his ears with his hands, but he couldn’t risk being detected. 

Meanwhile Crowley continued, “I like them chubby and plump…” Crowley took off his glasses, revealing his eyes light up by unhealthy fire and looked right Hastur in the eye. “Fa-a-at, so that I can grab their tights and fuck them unless they beg me for mercy, but they’ll see none.” Crowley grinned like a maniac. “I like a long and rough fuck, to leave bruises and teeth-marks. So that they remember, so that they moan and cry from pain and pleasure.” Anthony dragged on a cigarette once again and puffed the smoke into Hastur’s face. The latter coughed. “And despite all the roughness my lovers are satisfied, they want more, they return to me again and again, they beg. I’m merciful and generous, so sometimes I give them what they want.”

“You’re ill, narcissistic bastard.” answered Hastur with equal doubt and admiration in his voice. 

“Yes, that’s me!” the demon of Tadfield squeezed the cigarette between his teeth and spread his arms, throwing his head back. “Come here, Hastur.”

“Fuck you, Crowley!” Hastur grimaced once again and tried to wave him aside, accompanied by a burst of laughter. He left the locker room. The rest of the group laughed a little longer and followed him.

Aziraphale jumped away from the storeroom door, as it was situated right near the entrance to the locker-room. Crowley was the last one to leave. He put the cigarette out on one of the lockers, but taking the door-handle he suddenly stopped. Aziraphale was far away from the door and could not see what the demon was up to, but he was sure that Crowley was looking around. Fell heard a characteristic sound and realized in horror that Crowley was sniffing the air like some damn predator who had taken the trail of the game. A couple of tense moments later Aziraphale heard the long-awaited sound of the closing door and the footsteps dying in the distance. Fell with incredible sense of relief slid down the wall.

If he had been caught while eavesdropping on the secrets of the local elite, it would have been the end of his peaceful life. No one would have taken his word even if he had sweared that he did not mean to and it was a mere accident. Aziraphale was not a coward; however, he did not want to attract unwanted attention of these mean rich boys. Despite being a brilliant student and a good boy, he somehow never became a victim of bullying. He had never witnessed any bullying neither, as if troubles evaded him. However, he heard rumors about it happening all around the school. His close friends, as far as he was aware, never had to deal with it, and Fell wanted things to stay that way. He was not an idiot, who was eager to test the rumors and look for trouble. It was miracle that he had narrowly escaped them several minutes ago.

It was the last time he agreed to fetch the inventory alone!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to thanks for help with translation of this chapter to Tease_me (my Russian friend from ficbook). 
> 
> And also many thanks to supergeek21, who help me to made my text to be a more nice syllable and readable.  
> https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Supergeek21/pseuds/Supergeek21
> 
> Go watch their pages - they write their own interesting stories on Good omens fandom!  
> And many thank to everyone who read and hit cudos and comments here!

On the night of the party Aziraphale could not fall asleep. He had not managed to persuade Matt not to go, so the feelings of anxiety and guilt kept him tense throughout the evening. He worried that something bad would happen to his friend and he would not be there to help him. The very thought led him to the manor of Anthony Crowley that night. Aziraphale was very nervous, as he had not told his father he would be leaving tonight. The priest would hardly appreciate his son going somewhere where there would be plenty of alcohol, temptations, and God knows what else, in the middle of the night.

“Oh, God,” whined Aziraphale in distress, clenching his fists and trying to wave bad thoughts away. He just needed to make sure that Matt was alright and then he would simply go home. Matt was likely having fun at the party and was not in need of anybody’s help. He would be surprised, to see Aziraphale in such a place. That thought made Aziraphale smile.

The gates to the demon’s den were open. Loud music and people’s voices were coming from the house.. After a brief hesitation, Aziraphale gathered enough courage to enter. He took in the surroundings. Some people preferred to party inside of the house, but others gathered in the garden and on the terrace. Some were shouting songs, some were consuming alcohol, but everyone was drunk and merry. Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. He was not used to witnessing such scenes. Not that he had anything against alcohol, but he only drank in the company of loyal friends who would not use his impaired state for their own advantage. Like what he was witnessing right now:drunk teenagers were making out almost everywhere. Fell once again shuddered, hearing wet sounds nearby. He only needed to make sure that Matt was all right, and then he could leave.

Aziraphale moved deeper into the garden. No one seemed to pay any attention to him. The music became softer, there were less and less people around. He kept moving. The property was immense. He reached the back garden. There, in the center of the lawn, he could see the elite students gathered in a semi-circle. In the center was the host of the party himself. He was telling some sort of a joke, judging by the laughter that surrounded him.

“…you should have seen his eyes, when Hastur came in and I left the room and locked the door from the outside!” Crowley wiped away the tears that appeared because of his heavy laughter. Simultaneously he was trying to light a cigarette but was not very successful. Aziraphale felt ill at ease because of this loud laughter. He did not hurry to come closer, instead trying to spot Matt from afar.

The initial bad feeling only became worse when he had overheard the words about the “toy.” Aziraphale had not told anyone about the conversation he had witnessed in the locker room, though, he had tried to persuade his friend not to go to the party. He had used all kinds of arguments to remind him of Crowley’s bad reputation, but Matt was so deeply in love that he simply had not listened to him. He had gone to this stupid party and now Aziraphale had followed him.

Suddenly the backdoor opened wide and out came a disheveled Matthew, dressed only in his pants. With his thin bare arm, he clutched his favorite cream shirt. His scared eyes found Crowley and ran towards him. A moment later, a wickedly grinning Hastur also left the house. Aziraphale’s heart missed a bit.

“Crowley!” Matt grabbed the arm of the Demon of Tadfield and gave a desperate sob, looking back at Hastur who had followed him. “Help me!”

Hastur slowed down until he stopped dead. He grinned broadly and shoved his hands in his pockets. Crowley giggled drunkenly when he met Matt’s eyes and redirected his attention to Hastur.

“Well, did you have enough time?”

Hastur nodded and came closer to his friends, grinning more wildly this time.

“What?” asked Cornack helplessly, looking Crowley in the eye. “You knew… But I thought… We have…”

“What? Slept together? Yeah…” Crowley caught Matt’s wrist and took a large sip from a bottle of whiskey. “And we both liked it.” Anthony once again threw him a burning glance. “But you see, Hastur is my friend,” He pulled Cornack closer. Matt lost his balance and flew right into his arms. “And good friends should share with each other…” Hastur approached them quietly and put his hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“Leave him alone!” Aziraphale jumped from his hiding spot, his eyes flaring with righteous anger. “Let him go, now!” Fell quickly strode towards the offenders.

Everyone was startled. Except for Crowley, of course.

“Look who decided to join us!” He staggered to his feet drunkenly, never letting Matt’s wrist out of his grip. Conrack looked astonished by his friend’s sudden appearance. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve brought a friend along, dearest? I would like to see you play with each other and then give me a blowjob. But the party isn’t over yet, right?” Anthony redirected his drunk glance at the rapidly approaching Aziraphale. “Just look at him! So white, just like an…”[1]

His last words came out in a wet squishing sound, stopped by a hard blow in the face. Crowley finally let go of Matt’s wrist as he fell and tried to grab something for support. This something turned out to be a gaping Hastur. They both fell to the ground. Dead silence settled in the garden. It seemed that even the music had stopped playing. Everyone froze in complete horror and silence that was broken only by Aziraphale’s rapid breathing. He was still clenching his shaking fist.

Crowley slowly got up, meeting Hastur’s wide eyes with his own. His friend was still lying on the ground. When Crowley finally recovered his balance, he took in the surprised crowd, looking suddenly sober and collected. His gaze stopped at Aziraphale’s face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. He lifted his hand to wipe away blood from his nose and then looked at his palm as if he had never seen blood before in his life. This gesture worked as a signal for everyone to come back to life. Ligur and Dagon jumped to their feet literally baring their teeth at Aziraphale. Hastur followed their example, clenching his fists. The rest soon joined them. Matt stepped back to his friend, who was still radiating righteous anger, and tried to grab the clenched fists, which signaled he was ready to fight. Apparently, Aziraphale did not understand what he had just done.

They had mere seconds before the angry crowd would tear him apart. Suddenly, a loud voice intervened.

“No!” Devilish flames were dancing in Anthony’s eyes. “No one touches them!” Once again, he lifted his hands to wipe blood from his lips and chin. He slowly closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, trying to calm himself. In a moment, he turned back to his usual self: lazy and arrogant.

“I would like to remind you,” Crowley’s eyes were full of reproach. “That we are gentlemen,” he licked away a drop of blood from his lips, and Aziraphale unconsciously followed this gesture with his eyes. “Gentlemen do not hit girls.”

Crowley put on his stylish sunglasses that he wore at any time of day and nasty laughter filled the garden. Aziraphale was startled by the loud noise and came back to his senses. Matthew turned red in the face with humiliation. He hastily put on his shirt, trying to come up with a way to disappear unnoticed.

The demon of Tadfield raised his hand in a gesture that indicated the two could safely go back home. Matt pulled Aziraphale by his elbow towards the exit. He was grateful for this unexpected luck. He could hear the echo of the laughter long after they had left. Fortunately, no one was following them.

When Matt and Aziraphale got out of sight, Crowley licked his own blood off his hand and exchanged predatory glance with Dagon, who spotted excitement and understanding in it. Aziraphale would deeply regret that he had attracted Antony Crowley’s attention.

On the way home Aziraphale and Matthew did not talk. Only when they neared Aziraphale’s house, and called a taxi for Matt, who lived on the other end of the town, did Fell finally realize what he had done. He had hit Anthony-fucking-Crowley in his bloody face! In front of everyone. His knees were shaking, and Aziraphale fell onto his bed in exhaustion. Regardless of what would happen tomorrow, he could say goodbye to his former life. An action like this could not easily be forgotten.

Aziraphale turned on his back and raised his hand to his face. His knuckles were still bloody. For a moment, Fell wanted to know what it tasted like, this devil’s blood. But the second he realized this strange wish, he jumped to his feet and ran to the bathroom, barely managing to fight the nausea. He felt at ease again only after he had thoroughly washed his hands with soap, and had gargled and brushed his teeth. He would not be surprised if the blood of this narcissistic serpent would turn out to be venomous.

____________________________________________  
[1] Here Crowley want to call him an angel :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my Dear friends! I try to translate my story from Russian language to English and I need a help from beta! My friend fom ficbook help me to translate first chapter, but I need your help now! I could translate it with a mighty Google help XD and correct some mistakes but I need a help from beta very much!
> 
> Link to my story on ficbook (it isn't finished yet):  
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/8608934
> 
> Story have an illustrations too, there is a cover:  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CCbJfPgj9EC/?igshid=dqt88p6fan01


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